


Stuck In The Middle (Of Nowhere) With You

by Writcraft



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bisexual Louis, Blow Jobs, First Times, Fluff, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Praise Kink, Romance, trapped in a blizzard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-23 17:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: Nick throws a party at Soho Farmhouse's new Yorkshire retreat, to celebrate his X-Factor victory.He didn't anticipate getting trapped in the middle of nowhere with rival judge Louis Tomlinson, who's a terrible duvet thief and a surprisingly good kisser. Not that Nick's been thinking about that last part for the past three weeks. Much.





	Stuck In The Middle (Of Nowhere) With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weddingbells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weddingbells/gifts).



> Dear Weddingbells. It was terrific writing this fic for you. I hope you don't mind where I took your X-Factor prompt in the end. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoy the end results. A very Happy Holidays to you.

**Soho Farmhouse, Yorkshire**

The problem with drinking your own bodyweight in booze and dancing like a tit to Robyn’s new single, is that before you know it, you’re waking up with your cheek stuck to the carpet and a mouth that tastes like a weasel’s arse. 

Nick opens said mouth and groans, plaintively. Nobody pays him the slightest bit of attention, so he rolls over and makes a more dramatic attempt in the hope that one of his lovely friends will bring him salt and vinegar Squares and a nice bottle of Lucozade to help him prepare for the journey home. He’s feeling pretty smug about the fact that one of his lads won last week’s X-Factor and it’s going to be difficult to rub annoying popstars’ noses in his victory if he has eye bags the size of Scotland and looks like he’s had a flock of seagulls nesting in his quiff. 

Nick groans again, louder this time. He’s hoping to be heard by somebody who won’t object to making him a bacon sandwich and who might fuss over him for a bit. He doesn’t particularly care who, as long as it’s not Harry. It’s all kale, exchanging passive aggressive messages with Zayn over WhatsApp and flat caps with that one. He’s hoping it won’t be Pixie either, because she’d probably object to the bacon part of Nick’s plan to cure his stonking hangover.

There’s not a whiff of Pixie, or Harry. What Nick gets instead is a pair of sweaty socks thrown in his face and a very distinctive voice—huskier than usual on account of all the chain-smoking going on last night—muttering, “Shut the fuck up, Payno.”

Nick sits bolt upright and makes a mental note never to do _that_ again on a hangover, staring at the balled-up figure in the bed next to him. The very cosy looking bed. The bed that definitely had Nick’s Louis Vuitton bag placed on it in a _this is my bed, leave off_ sort of way. The person in the bed burrows deeper under the duvet, sighing contentedly, as one might when they’re a bed thieving little terror. 

“Sick party, lad.” The voice is muffled, probably by the lovely goose-down pillows Nick was looking forward to sleeping on, before some short-arsed popstar relegated him to the floor. 

“Wasn’t it just,” he comments, drily. 

Louis Tomlinson sits up with a startled squawk, promptly collapsing back against the pillows and clutching his head. It’s terribly dramatic. 

“You’re not Payno,” Louis says, voice muffled around a mouthful of duvet.

“Well spotted.” Nick gets to his feet, feeling a bit like Bambi as he wobbles on unsteady legs and sits on the side of the bed currently not occupied by a rival X-Factor judge and former member of One Direction. He yanks off his socks and lifts the duvet, sighing with pleasure as the warm, soft bed yields underneath his body. It’s like a cloud. A blissful, feathery, glorious cloud. The most comfortable bed he thinks he’s ever—

“What the fuck are you doing, mate?” Louis’ voice is still muffled, but even the feathers in his mouth can’t disguise the note of outrage in his tone.

“Sleeping,” Nick mumbles. He rolls onto his side, pointedly turning his back on Louis. “In _my_ bed. Go back to your own room if you don’t want to share.”

Louis curses under his breath. “This is my bed.”

“Nope.” Nick gestures vaguely to the foot of it. “Not unless you’ve got a Louis Vuitton weekend bag.”

“Of course I don’t, I’m not an unbearable wanker.” It’s a bit unfair, because Louis might wear clothes that look like he just popped into Lidl and asked if they had any trackies, but Nick knows fashion, he knows sportswear and he knows Louis Tomlinson is a massive fucking hypocrite. Those terrible trainers he was sporting last night cost about a million pounds. Just because most of his clothes look like Asda’s finest, doesn’t make them any less Gucci. 

“Give it a rest, love.” Nick yawns and snuggles underneath the duvet. God, this bed really is brilliant. “You’re giving me a headache.”

Nick honestly expects Louis to get up and stomp out of the room, after leaving a rude note on one of those free hotel notepads that’s probably lying around somewhere. He’s half a mind to make a comment about how it’s good to share a bed with a member of One Direction again, but he decides against it. It feels like the kind of thing that Louis wouldn’t take well, when he’s cranky from losing to Nick in the final and probably in need of a fag.

Instead of leaving as a nice, polite boy would, Louis yanks the duvet away from Nick and curls, sausage-roll like, inside it. “Don’t you know how to share? Probably wouldn’t need so much of the duvet if you weren’t such a bloody giraffe.”

“We could always cuddle up, darling,” Nick offers, sleepily, yanking back enough duvet to make sure his toes don’t get cold. He wriggles them appreciatively, plumping his pillow and sinking into its lovely, cotton-fresh comfort. “Now sush. I’m trying to catch up on all that sleep I wasn’t getting when you kicked me out of my own bed and made me sleep on the floor.”

“I didn’t kick you out.” Louis starts shoving a wall of pillows between them. “Keep your knob away from me.”

“As if I’d want my knob anywhere near you, pet.” Nick turns over slowly—his head is still fucking killing and he’s starting to feel slightly nauseous. He peers at Louis over the top of the newly erected wall of pillows between them. “Does it make you nervous being in bed with a gay man, is that it? You can relax. I think I can manage to keep my hands off a two-foot tall popstar with hair that looks like Pig’s old brush.”

Louis pats his hair self-consciously and glares at Nick. “It’s nothing to do with you being gay, mate. It’s to do with you being _you_.” He gives Nick a sharp grin. “Anyway. Not the first time I’ve been in bed with a gay man. I just liked him more.” Louis rolls onto his back and stretches with a yawn. “He wasn’t a dickhead, like you.”

Nick stares at Louis, wondering if this is some kind of peculiar fever dream. “You’re—”

“—Bisexual, yep.” Louis rolls his eyes. “I don’t just get off with blokes because I’m bored, you know. Bet you think I’m secretly gay, or summat.”

“No.” Nick swallows, his throat suddenly dry. He’s tempted to text Harry to say _could have told me Louis likes blokes_ followed by a series of outraged emojis. The fact Louis stuck his tongue down Nick’s throat three weeks ago might have been an indication, but Nick just assumed that was Louis being, well…Louis. Fucking with Nick’s head because he’s a demon. “Is that new?”

“Nope.” Louis closes his eyes. “Shut up, will you? I’m trying to sleep.” Louis adds another pillow to the pillow wall and rolls over indicating the conversation is finished. 

Nick closes his eyes and turns away with a _humph_ , but he’s suddenly not so sleepy after all.

He spends ages curled in a tight ball of annoyance, listening to Louis Tomlinson snore beside him, his mind whirring with the kinds of thoughts his mind probably shouldn’t be whirring with. At all. 

It’s a good job he’s going home in a few hours, Nick thinks. It’s quiet at home. No fit popstars mumbling in their sleep about chicken nuggets and playing havoc with Nick’s sore, partied out brain.

A very good job indeed.

**Three Weeks Ago, X-Factor After Party**

Louis somehow got away with wearing tracksuit bottoms again on the show and he looks bloody smug about it, laughing with Simon about something. Nick pretends not to care that Louis is clearly Simon’s favourite and takes a soothing sip of his beer. He hates Budweiser. It’s rubbish. 

“Nice shirt.” Louis approaches with his usual sharp smile and a bottle of cider. Nick would kill for a cider. He peers at the pattern on Nick’s shirt and pulls a face. “Are they flamingos?”

“Yes.” Nick gives Louis a scathing look. “Is that a tracksuit?”

Louis beams. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

Nick rolls his eyes and declines to comment. “Looks like it’s going to be between me and you in the finals.” Nick’s pretty proud of his boys this year and according to all the papers he’s been pouring over, it’s going to be a close call between Charlie, who the papers are already calling the next Shawn Mendes, and Louis’ poppy girl band. 

“Looks like.” Louis thumbs through his phone and laughs at something. Nick hates it when people don’t share funny memes or whatever it is that’s making Louis smile and shake his head.

“Don’t be so rude,” Nick says. It’s rich considering he spends at least twenty hours a day on his phone. Nick's been accused of getting distracted by a meme or thirst following male models on Instagram when he should have been listening to a conversation more than once, but it rankles that Louis won't share what's making him smile. It's only right that Nick should take the moral high ground when, for once, his own phone is safely in his pocket. 

“Sorry.” Louis doesn’t sound sorry, but he pockets his phone nevertheless. “Fancy a smoke?”

“Really?” Nick stares at Louis, wondering what the fuck’s going on in that head of his. They’ve become so good at hamming up their dislike for one another for the cameras, Nick’s had his suspicions for a while that maybe Louis isn’t the world’s best actor. Perhaps he just doesn’t like Nick.

Louis gives Nick a strange look. “Yeah, really.”

“Come on, then.” Nick nudges Louis into the crowds and only glances at Louis’ arse for about five seconds. It looks pretty nice in those trackies of his, even if Nick does resent Louis for being such a teacher’s pet. He's knackered and he wouldn't mind wearing his boxers and Britney t-shirt of a night if he could get away with it. His shirt might be expensive but it's itchy as fuck, and his trousers are a size too small.

“Want one?” Louis offers Nick a cig from a crumpled packet of menthols.

“No thanks.” Nick pulls a face and gets one of his distinctly less crumpled Camels out. “My nana smokes menthols.”

“Your nana sounds dead classy.” Louis gives Nick a sharp smile, his eyes narrowing as he puffs out a tendril of smoke. “The _Mirror_ reckons we’re feuding. They said me and Harry aren’t speaking because of you.”

“The _Mirror_ can get stuffed.” Nick rolls his eyes. “The _Sun_ and the _Mail_ too, for that matter. The tabloids are shit.” He doesn’t think Harry and Louis speak much at the minute, but he also doesn’t think that’s anything to do with him. In the past, maybe. Not now.

“Shit,” Louis agrees. His forehead creases and he looks at the ground, scuffing the toe of his trainer against a bit of dirty chewing gum on the floor. It’s pretty gross, all things considered. Nick thinks of the pictures he’s seen in Louis over the years. The bleary-eyed stumbling out of clubs, the girls and the cameras shoved in his face during his first appearances after his mum passed. Nick has the strangest desire to pull Louis into his arms, which he swallows back. He stuffs his free hand in his pocket, which is difficult because his skinny jeans are practically painted on. 

Nick clears his throat and has another puff on his cigarette. “You’re pretty convincing. Wondered if there wasn’t some truth in it myself for a bit.”

“What?” Louis’ eyes narrow and he looks up at Nick. “Why would there be?”

 _Because of Harry_ , Nick thinks. _Because of Twitter, ages ago_. He doesn’t know what it is, but he’s always felt a bit like he’s saying everything wrong when it comes to Louis. The jokes fall flat, the humour starts to sound mean and Nick doesn’t know why Louis won’t just be endeared by Nick. He doesn’t mind Louis. He _likes_ Louis. At least he did, before he started convincing himself Louis thinks he’s a knob.

“Don’t know, pet.” Nick shrugs. “I just think nobody’s that good at acting.”

“I am.” Louis puffs his chest out and it makes Nick’s heart kick unexpectedly. He rolls his eyes at Nick and sighs, muttering something under his breath. “I’m a little shit, Nicholas. You’re not going to get compliments on your hair and conversations about Gucci’s latest line of shirts from me. It's just a laugh, innit?”

“Suppose.” Nick can’t help but smile at Louis, who sways into Nick. It would be easy to believe it was an accident, if Louis didn't stay firmly in place. Perhaps he really is good at acting, after all. Nick sucks in a breath, his gaze catching on Louis' lovely eyes and questioning smile. They’re almost close enough to touch, and it wouldn’t take much for Nick to reach out and pull Louis against his body. “All conversations about footie scores and pie and chips with you, I bet.”

“Pretty much.” Louis contemplates Nick. “I like dogs.”

“Me too,” Nick agrees. His voice softens, and he reaches out, his hand sliding over Louis’ arm before catching his wrist. “We can talk about them if you like. If you're so offended by Gucci.” He tugs Louis closer.

“I don’t hate you, dickhead.” Louis muffles his laugh against Nick’s lips. “That’s been me _flirting_. For weeks.”

If Nick wasn’t so distracted by the fact Louis is an excellent kisser, he would laugh too. Bloody Louis with his snarky jokes and competitive edge. His stupid flirting has had the tabloids writing all kinds of bollocks, which is quite funny now Nick thinks about it. There's nothing like a good feud to put the papers completely off the scent. Nick pulls Louis firmly against his body and kisses him soundly, chasing away the last remnants of laughter until it's all hot breath and filthy whispers. The slide of their lips and tongues together makes Nick’s heart race in his chest. With a groan he turns them so Louis is against the wall, and pushes against him. He can’t get enough of Louis, it turns out. What started off as a nice snog to keep the chill of the night away turns into a clutching, biting, fight of a thing. It makes Nick so hard he just wants to get Louis home—or somewhere that isn’t _outside the fucking X-Factor_ , Jesus. Nick should probably do the sensible thing and stop this stupid, risky kiss, but he can’t bring himself to break away. Louis tastes like cigarettes and sweet cider. He smells good, too. Like sweat, boy and musky cologne that smells familiar, like one of those ones everyone wore in the nineties. Nick even appreciates the trackies because he could just slide his hands underneath the waistband to Louis’ gorgeous bum and—

“—Fuck.” Louis pulls back, his breath ragged as he stares at Nick. He looks around quickly, but the area around them is mercifully as quiet as it was when they came outside. He pushes away from Nick, a small smile on his face. “You’re alright at that.”

“Thanks.” Nick isn’t sure what to say, because he’s half-hard and his head is still spinning. “You too,” he adds. It seems polite, and it’s the truth. Louis is good at kissing. _Very_ good, as Nick’s racing heart can attest to. 

“I know.” Louis winks at Nick. “Good luck in the finals, mate. I still reckon I’m going to wipe the floor with you. Don’t think this changes that.”

“I wouldn’t,” Nick scoffs. He catches Louis by the wrist before he can disappear off. He swallows and rubs his thumb over Louis’ pulse which skips beneath his skin. “I’m having a party after it’s all over. Probably not your thing, a big fancy house in the middle of—”

“Yeah,” Louis interrupts. His eyes are bright with something unexpected and his throat works. “I’ll come. Tell me when and where.”

“Okay.” Nick releases Louis’ wrist, wishing he could pull him back into his arms but knowing they’re already bloody lucky they haven’t been caught. He pulls his cigs out of his pockets and lights another, idly thumbing through his phone. He hopes it makes him look casual, as if he isn't completely discombobulated by Louis and his fierce, demanding kisses. “See you, then.”

“Bye, Nicholas.” When Louis is almost out of earshot he turns back, just to get in his parting shot. “I hope you enjoy losing.” He looks well-kissed, very pleased with himself and Nick misses him already.

Nick grins and watches Louis’ bum as he disappears and everything is a little bit warmer than before.

**Soho Farmhouse, Yorkshire**

“Oi! Grimshaw! Wake the fuck up, will you?” Louis has a filthy mouth on him, and Nick wonders what else that filthy mouth could do. He _hums_ and yanks Louis onto the bed, fit and hot in his arms.

“Why don’t you make me?” Nick says, sliding his hand down to Louis’ excellent bum for a quick grope. As dreams go, this is an unexpected but not entirely unpleasurable one.

It takes precisely three seconds, a pointy elbow in the stomach and a _gerroff_ for Nick to realise this isn’t a dream. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut hoping if he doesn’t open them it might be like he didn’t just pull Louis Tomlinson onto the bed and give him a proper feel of his morning stiffy. 

Louis bounces on the edge of the bed and pokes Nick in the side. “Grimmy, I mean it. Wake up, will you?”

Nick cracks an eye open to find Louis looking crossly at him. He clears his throat. “About that…cuddle—”

“I couldn’t give a fuck about the cuddle, Jesus Christ.” Louis glares at Nick. He’s seen fit to put on some clothes, including a hoodie that’s about three sizes too big for him. It makes Nick feel very under dressed, and he pulls the duvet up to his chin like a Victorian lady protecting her modesty. “We’re trapped.”

Nick isn’t sure if he heard correctly, or if this is his brain going from _nice sex dream_ to _mortifying anxiety induced nightmare_. It’s possible he might be awake, but he’s really starting to hope not for more reasons than a bit of embarrassment over a half-hearted grope of Louis’ bum. 

“Excuse me?” The hangover Nick thought he had slept off returns like a freight train, and his tongue has a furry, sour taste to it which is pretty rank.

“Trapped.” Louis looks a little wild around the eyes and shoves his phone in Nick’s face. “Look.”

Nick squints at the text, a series of blurry letters from someone called Dyno.

“For crying out loud.” Louis holds the phone up and reads for Nick’s benefit. “Thought we’d let you and Grimmy sleep in a bit, Tommo. Now we’re stuck at a Welcome Break somewhere around Donny waiting for the roads to clear up. It’s not safe to drive, motorways are shit. They’re telling everyone to stay put. Think you’d best hang on for the storm to pass.”

“What storm?” Nick asks. As if on cue there’s a clatter against the window, as if somebody is standing outside throwing pebbles at the glass.

“Hail.” Louis stands and stares out of the window, his expression gloomy. “Snow’s been coming in, too. At this rate we’re not going to be able to go anywhere. The BBC reckon it’s the worst storm since the seventeen hundreds or summat. There are geese going barmy in Colchester or wherever the fuck.”

“Geese?” Nick sits up in bed, his morning erection well and truly wilted. He needs a piss, and possibly a time machine so he can go back to the night before and tell his stupid self to stop drinking shots of Sambuca. He could have been on the motorway by now, well on his way to London and long shot of Yorkshire and barmy geese. “Why the fuck are people on about geese?”

“I don’t know, it was on the BBC.” Louis glares at Nick. “I’m not a fucking what-you-call-it.” He blurs the words together into one. _Whatchoocallit_. 

“Ornithologist,” Nick says. “They’re ornithologists. Bird watchers.”

“Thanks, David Attenborough.” Louis rolls his eyes and folds his arms. “More importantly, how’re we going to get out of here?”

“They can’t have all left.” Nick reaches for his inhaler and takes a puff. Louis has the decency to look concerned, probably not fancying trying to deal with Nick having an asthma attack. If he wasn't starting to panic, Nick would be tempted to make a joke about mouth to mouth. As it is, the sickly feeling rolls in his stomach and his panic intensifies. “There must be other people here. There’s a bar.”

“The bar isn’t open, not until the new year.” Louis glares at Nick as if the weather is all his fault. “I tried to get out the front door earlier but it’s stuck. Proper snow all up the front of it, and doesn’t look like anyone from the zoo or the rent-a-bike bit or whatever they’ve got here is going to come and save us.” He looks miserable. “They probably don’t even know we’re here, they probably reckon we fucked off when everyone else did.

Nick reaches for his glasses and picks up his phone, but all he gets is a blank screen. “I’m out of battery.”

“Charger’s on the side.” 

Nick mumbles his thanks and plugs in his phone, yanking off the duvet and grabbing some jogging bottoms and a t-shirt from his bag. He makes his way to the bathroom and switches on the shower, brushing his teeth and staring at himself in the mirror. He looks as rough as he feels. He goes for a wee and strips off, stepping under the warm jets of the shower. The water pressure eases the knots in his shoulders and he turns his head into the water, letting it wash over him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Nick lets out a yelp of indignation and turns to see Louis giving him an angry look through the mercifully steamy shower door. 

“Having a shower. _Naked_ ,” he points out, in case Louis hadn’t noticed.

“I can see that.” Louis’ cheeks look slightly pink, which Nick puts down to the steam. His eyes flick down, and Nick wants to say _I have a great personality too, you know_ but he mostly just wants Louis to get the fuck out of the bathroom. “We don’t have time.”

“If what you’re saying is right, we have nothing _but_ time.” Nick turns his back to Louis, because he’s starting to feel self-conscious about his dick being on display, even if it's a part of his body he has no qualms about. “Bugger off, I’ll be out in a minute. I can’t do anything without my phone, anyway.”

The bathroom door closes with a slam and Nick takes an extra long time washing his hair, just to be annoying.

*

Nick rubs the towel over his hair and exits the bathroom, feeling much better now his mouth doesn’t taste like stale booze and he’s properly clothed. Louis is nowhere to be seen, so Nick sits on the bed and switches on his phone, thumbing through his WhatsApp which is going mental.

 **Pepsi**  
Did you shag Louis Tomlinson???

 **Pepsi**  
You’re such a slag

 **Pepsi**  
We thought we’d leave you love birds to it. HA HA HA. 

**Aimee**  
Don’t encourage him. Grim, we need to talk about your choices.

 **Pepsi**  
See you later?? We’re doing the pub quiz.

 **Henners**  
Wait. Grim did what???

 **Aimee**  
Do you mean before he went to bed or after?

 **Pepsi**  
He was on form. 

**Henners.**  
I'm going to need someone to tell me everything.

 **Aimee**  
Message when you wake up Grim.

 **Aimee**  
Don’t drive in this. The roads are terrible. I mean it. DON’T YOU DARE.

 **Pepsi**  
Stay safe darling. Text us???

Nick swallows, clicking out of WhatsApp and calling Pixie. “You left me stranded in the middle of nowhere?"

“It’s Grim! Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker.” There’s a rustling and the background noise disappears as what sounds like the telly is put on mute. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Still in fucking Yorkshire,” Nick replies. Of course he would choose this weekend to try out the new Soho Farmhouse in Yorkshire. He should have stuck with Chipping Norton. He bets there’s no snow there. That bar would be open in Chipping Norton. “We’re trapped, by the way. Me and Louis. You know the one, pretty famous popstar, used to be in One Direction. Nice bum, fond of a tracksuit.”

“We know him.” Pixie cackles. “Your new _boyfriend_.”

“Oh leave it out.” Nick rolls his eyes and glares at the phone. “Made it home okay, did you?” He says, not at all petulantly.

“Only just.” Pixie mutters something to someone—presumably George—before continuing. “I’m really sorry, Grim. We honestly thought you’d appreciate a bit of space.”

“Why the fuck would you think that?”

“Well.” Pixie sounds as if she’s trying to put things delicately. “It’s been a little while—”

“—Excuse you, it’s not been that long.”

“Long enough,” Pixie says. Nick can almost see her grinning. “There hasn’t really been anyone special since…well. Since about a hundred years ago.”

Nick grits his teeth. “It’s _Louis Tomlinson_. He fell asleep in my bed and I woke up on the floor. Nothing happened. Not so much as a peck on the cheek. You left me here with someone who doesn’t know how to share a duvet, who probably hates me, nobody’s with the dogs and I’ve got to be on the radio on Monday!” Nick’s starting to panic, his breathing coming the way it does when he gets overwhelmed. 

“Hey, don’t panic.” Pixie sounds concerned now, no longer teasing. “We’ll look after the dogs, they’re with Collette at the minute, they’re going to be fine.”

“What about the radio?” Nick says, mournfully. The last thing he needs is to miss work. He hates missing work. He ends up scrolling listlessly through Tumblr, which is never good. Tumblr’s full of weirdos. “I can’t just not go in.”

“Call them, they’ll understand. It’s really bad, Grim. It’s not just there, it’s everywhere. You can’t drive, it’s not safe.”

“I can’t drive because there’s going to be about fifty foot of snow by tomorrow. The front door won’t even open.” Nick sighs into the phone, feeling a bit sorry for himself. The gorgeous scenery and the rolling hills of the Yorkshire Dales that seemed like such a refreshing change from the grit and grime of London at the start of the weekend, are just annoying now. If they were on a main road or in a city, at least they could get around. There are only so many pictures of cold-looking sheep and powder-white hills you can put on Instagram before you start losing half your followers. “I can’t believe you left.”

“We thought it was the right thing,” Pixie replies, quietly. “We just want you to be happy.”

“Well I’m not bloody happy, am I?” Nick sits back on the bed, his chest tight. He really shouldn’t have smoked so much the night before. “It’s fine.”

“I should call Aimee. She’s been worrying.”

Nick has a good mind to call Aimee himself, but he expects she’s busy with baby Sunday and the wave of anger from before has disappeared almost entirely. He can’t be angry with his friends for long. He knows they thought they were doing the right thing. He just feels lonely, he supposes. A bit shit about the fact his friends are so desperate to see him with someone, that they left him in the middle of nowhere just before a snow storm on some weird, matchmaking endeavour. If he’s honest he’s even more miserable about the fact that it was all pointless. If he was holed up with a fit boy he’d pulled the night before, Nick would be making the most of it. He’d be grateful, even.

But he’s not. He’s stuck with Louis Tomlinson, who doesn’t even like Nick. Louis who snogged Nick once and clearly didn’t want to do it again because he never mentioned it afterwards. It was right back to being shit about Nick’s acts and giving the tabloids something to write about as if nothing had happened. Nick’s been fretting over whether he’s a rubbish kisser ever since. Meanwhile, Louis’ probably somewhere trying to get somebody fancy from L.A. to get him out of this mess, so he doesn’t have to spend any more time with Nick. He built a pillow wall.

Nick says goodbye to Pixie and phones Producer Travis and Big Boss Ben who take Nick’s possible absence in their stride. When he hangs up the phone, Nick curls up into a ball on the bed, wallowing. His head feels like shit, Louis has fucked off to fuck knows where and his friends think he’s a right sad sack. The happiness from the night before ebbs away until there’s nothing left but a dull, hollow ache in his chest. 

Nick’s about five minutes away from changing his ringtone to _All By Myself_ , when Louis barges through the door looking triumphant.

“Finished showering, have you?” He sounds a touch judgmental, but because he’s holding a delicious looking bacon sandwich, Nick decides to let it slide.

“Finished ages ago.” Nick nods at his phone. “You were right. Everyone buggered off. Apparently they wanted to give me time alone with my new _boyfriend_.”

Louis hands Nick the plate, plonking a cup of tea down on the bedside cabinet.

“There are better ways to pull,” Louis says. “Is this how you usually get a boyfriend?”

Nick snorts. “Hardly. Haven’t had a boyfriend since the nineties.” It’s not true—Nick didn’t have much of anything in the nineties and certainly not a boyfriend—but it feels like it’s been that long. He looks at the sandwich. “This for me?”

“Yeah. I’ve eaten mine.” Louis grins at Nick. “About the only thing I can cook, too, so you’re doing tea. None of that sweet potato or avocado bollocks.”

“Do we even have food?” Nick wouldn’t be surprised if his terrible friends buggered off and left them with a few rashers of bacon and a couple of bread rolls just to make it all a bit more _I’m A Celebrity_. 

“Loads. Most of it’s fancy shit, but I bet you know how to toast a scallop or whatever people do with them.” Louis gestures towards the open bedroom door. “Dunno if the power’s going to hold, but the stove’s gas. We can still make a brew.”

Nick’s heart gives an unexpected, fond kick at Louis and his priorities. Proper little Bear Grylls, that one. He smiles at Louis around a mouthful of (surprisingly delicious) bacon sandwich. “As long as we can still make a brew.”

“Can’t go without our tea, can we, lad?” Louis gives Nick a wide smile, much more chipper than he was this morning. Nick suspects popstars don’t get proper hangovers. They probably exist on some higher plane where they get to be fit, sing at Wembley Stadium and snooze off the night before in a few hours. Louis watches Nick eat, looking pleased with himself.

“It’s really good,” Nick says.

“Yeah?” Louis looks even prouder, his smile happy and bright. “Me mum always made us bacon sarnies as kids. Bit of butter, loads of HP sauce. Proper nice.”

“Yeah.” Nick’s throat gets tight and he gives Louis a small smile, resisting the urge to reach out to him, because that would be weird and inappropriate. “Proper nice. It was all sausage baps with ketchup at our place.”

“Also a strong choice,” Louis says. “I looked for hash browns, but they don’t have any. Just frozen lime, two bags of ice and stupid champagne ice lollies.”

“Handy.” Nick polishes off the rest of his bacon sandwich and sucks a stray dollop of brown sauce from his thumb. He drinks half of his tea in one and sits back against the pillows with a contented sigh. Maybe being trapped isn’t so bad after all. He’s been due a day or two off for a while now and it’s not as though he can help it. “Why wouldn’t you just have a glass of champagne?”

“That’s exactly what I said.” 

“To who?” Nick raises his eyebrows at Louis, wondering if this has all been an elaborate wind-up.

“To myself, dickhead.” Louis glares at Nick. “You were busy having the longest shower anyone’s ever had, so I didn’t have many options.”

“I had to shower off the hangover,” Nick says. “Don’t be a judgy little twat. It’s not like I was having a wank.”

“Should have done. Sort out that morning stiffy of yours.” Louis gives Nick a wicked grin and stands, stretching. “I’m bored. Let’s do something.” His eyes light up. “There’s a massive telly. They might have Fifa.”

Nick hopes to fuck they don’t, but because Louis made him a bacon sandwich and a cuppa, he dutifully follows him into the living room to find out.

*

“So, this bi thing…”

“Don’t go on about it.” Louis stares pointedly ahead, as if it’s all Nick’s been able to talk about since they woke up. “It’s not anything.”

“It’s something.”

“Not anything worth talking about.” Louis scores a goal, a touch aggressively. “Are you going to talk about it on the radio?”

“Doubt it.” Nick frowns at Louis. “Should I, like, keep it to myself?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, if you could try to keep your big gob shut about my private life, I’d appreciate it.” He glances at Nick and finally puts his controller down, crossly. “Look, I’m not ashamed. People know. Plenty of people know. I’m not hiding, I’m living my life. I just don’t want the press fucking up my chance to meet someone. It’s bloody hard, meeting people that aren’t just there for the money or whatever. I don’t need the tabloids making a thing of it. You know what they’re like. They’d say Zayn left the band because I wanted to shag him or something.”

Nick snorts with laughter. “The tabloids are shit.”

“Got that right, mate.” Louis pulls a face. “If I’m with someone—if it’s a bloke—I don’t care. Let them have at it. I just want to have space to meet someone first.” Louis shrugs. “Maybe it won’t happen that way, but I’m not going to give the paps a tip off if I don’t need to.” 

“Is that what you want?” Nick looks curiously at Louis. “To meet someone?”

“Maybe.” Louis shrugs. “Wouldn’t say no to a blow job. It’s been ages since I’ve had one of those.”

“Oh.” Nick swallows back the offer of his services that threatens to spill out. “Well.”

Louis glares at Nick. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t asking or anything.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Nick says, honestly.

“Good.” Louis turns back to the telly.

“Yeah,” Nick says. “Good.”

*

The evening draws in and Louis is off on his phone whilst Nick tries to make everything look _just fine, don’t panic_ on Instagram. He takes an arty picture of the sofa with its comfortable blankets and winces when people start replying with the investigative eye emojis after spotting one of Louis’ enormous hoodies in the background. Nick pulls a face and switches off his phone, chucking it on the table in case the power ends up going.

“That was me sister.” Louis returns to the living room and sits on the sofa, putting his feet up on the coffee table. “Reckons we’ll be here for another couple of days.”

“Great.” Nick sighs and rubs his jaw. “Think Instagram's onto us. I posted a picture, someone caught your jumper in the background.”

“Doesn't matter.” Louis shrugs. “They probably think we're fighting about X-Factor.”

Nick snorts. “Probably. I bet we can’t even get a Deliveroo.”

“Here? No chance, mate.” Louis shakes his head. “I’ve had a go at Pizza Hut, Dominos, Deliveroo, Just Eat and Uber Eats. There’s fuck all. The nearest McDonalds is twenty miles away,” he says, miserably.

“Good job we’ve got them scallops, then.”

“Ugh.” Louis pulls a face. He glances at Nick. “Why’d you invite me to this in the first place?”

“Because.” Nick shrugs. “I wasn’t going to invite your boys and not you. We’re mates, aren’t we?” He’s not sure that’s true, but they’re definitely not anything else at the minute. “Why did you come?”

“Because.” Louis doesn’t look at Nick. “I thought we might be able to do it again.”

“What’s that?” Nick has a good idea what Louis might be on about, but he wants to hear him say it. The air in the room is warm and still, and Nick holds his breath while he waits for Louis to reply.

“Kiss or summat.” Louis fiddles with his fringe, pushing it to one side. “Other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” Nick shifts closer to Louis and rubs his thumb over his thigh. “You came to do other stuff, with me?”

“Came for the free booze, mainly.” Louis looks at Nick with a grin. His cheeks are pink.

“As if you need free anything. You’re a squillionaire.”

“You’re not skint either,” Louis says. “All those posh shirts you’d wear on the telly.”

“I didn’t think you noticed, darling.” Nick runs his tongue over his lip, looking at Louis’ bright eyes and wide smile. He’s really lovely. “Fancy going back to bed?”

Louis nods. He gestures to the room behind him. “Might steal yours again.”

“Probably should.” Nick nods. “Just in case the power goes out and it gets cold.”

“Cheesy,” Louis replies, as if he’s not just as cheesy himself.

“I try.” Nick leans in and gives Louis a chaste kiss on the cheek. It’s hot beneath his lips. “Ready?”

“Mmm.” It’s just a kiss on the cheek, but when Nick pulls back he’s gratified to see that Louis looks blissfully happy. It makes Nick warm all over, thinking about how responsive Louis might be to other stuff if he looks like this after a kiss.

He gives Louis a nudge and they make their way to Nick’s room without so much as another word.

*

Louis is gorgeous, naked. Although he is full of cocky bravado, there’s something about the way his thighs tremble when Nick presses his fingers against them and the messy, heated urgency of his kisses that makes Nick wonder what’s going on in that head of his.

“What stuff do you like?” Nick slides a slow hand over Louis’ cock, watching him suck in a sharp breath as his eyes flutter closed. 

“That.” Louis twists his hand into the sheets and hisses as Nick thumbs over the damp slit of his cock, wet with pre-come. “It’s been a while.”

“Hmm?” Nick gives Louis’ cock another slow stroke, watching his belly flex and clench. He loves making men come apart and Louis is so deliciously responsive, it makes Nick want to do the filthiest things with him.

“I could fuck you,” Louis says. His voice is jagged edged and husky, raw with arousal. He tips his head to look at Nick, a question in his eyes that Nick can’t quite decipher.

“If you like.” Nick doesn’t particularly care who does what, although he has a definite preference for being on top. Still, it’s not as though he doesn’t like things the other way, and he’s happy to try everything with Louis. Somehow though he didn’t expect to go straight into the fucking. Not with Louis already shaking and trembling, parting his legs a little as though he wants something he can’t quite ask for. He slides his hand over Louis again, bending down and sliding his tongue over the nub of one of Louis’ nipples. “I could use my tongue on you if you like?”

Louis jerks up into Nick’s hand and he sounds breathless when he finally speaks. “Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“I’ve just showered,” Louis says, as if Nick needs any extra convincing.

“I know,” Nick replies. He knows because he had some fairly uncomfortable thoughts about Louis being naked and soapy, and when Louis came back, he’d pinched Nick’s shampoo and he smelt clean and delicious. It made Nick feel strangely territorial and he’d wanted to push Louis back onto the sofa and snog him right then and there. Nick slides his hand off Louis. “Come here, pet. Arse up for me.”

Nick leans against the headboard and Louis turns his back to Nick. He gets his hands and knees firmly planted either side of Nick and shuffles back until his arse is close to Nick’s face.

“Good boy,” Nick murmurs. The words seem to make Louis more turned on than ever, a low, shaky moan leaving his lips. Nick rubs his bum, enjoying getting this up close and personal. He presses a light kiss to Louis’ cool flesh and murmurs against his skin. “You’ve done this before, yeah?”

“Nngh.” Louis replies, not at all helpfully.

“Didn’t catch that, love.”

“No,” Louis bites out through gritted teeth. “Just do it, will you?”

It sends a thrill through Nick, being the first to tongue Louis open. He decides to make it as hot, filthy and good as possible. With a low groan he spreads Louis open and begins by sliding the flat of his tongue over Louis’ hole. He takes his time, sliding his tongue over Louis and pushing the tip of it inside. Even when his mouth aches and his chin is damp with saliva, he keeps going because it quickly transpires that Louis loves this. The sounds he makes go straight to Nick’s cock. His body shakes as he holds himself up, a litany of curses falling from his lips. When Nick finally stops teasing and nudges his tongue further inside Louis to fuck him slowly with it, it appears to become too much. Louis yanks away from Nick, turning and kissing him hard. Nick can feel the hard, fast jerk of Louis’ hand between them and he fists one hand in Louis’ hair and gets the other down to his bum, rubbing his thumb over Louis’ hole and pushing gently inside. The movement makes Louis come with a shout and he buries his face in Nick’s neck as he catches his breath.

Nick decides to avoid saying anything because he thinks he would likely sound incredibly smug. He kisses Louis’ hair, sliding his fingers over the damp, flushed skin of Louis’ neck. With a sigh he wriggles under Louis and bites back a groan when Louis slips down Nick’s body.

“Fuck, yes.” Nick pushes a hand into Louis’ hair, watching him unbuckle Nick’s jeans. It’s hot, being partially clothed while Louis’ naked, but he’s definitely ready to get out of his jeans. He sighs with relief when Louis undoes the zip and watches Louis pull down his pants and jeans, staring at Nick’s cock.

“It won’t bite,” Nick says in the end. Louis’ been looking at his dick for rather a long time and he’s beginning to feel a bit insulted.

“I know. Twat,” Louis adds. He looks up at Nick, his expression defiant, the flicker of something else behind it. “You’re big.”

“I know.” Nick grins at Louis and tries not to sound to pleased with himself. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” Louis runs his tongue over his lip. “I, um. I haven’t been fucked before.”

“Oh.” Nick raises an eyebrow at Louis. “Okay.”

“I’m not scared or anything,” Louis insists, even though he sounds a little scared. Nick reaches for him and pulls him into a firm kiss.

“I’m not in any rush, darling. If you do want to do it, we’ll use plenty of lube, I’ll use my fingers get you nice and warmed up but there’s no rush for any of it.”

“Oh fuck.” Louis groans against Nick’s lips and rocks over him. “I want that. Your fingers. Getting me ready. Your tongue felt so good.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want.” Nick pulls Louis into another heated kiss, before breaking apart. “Were you planning to suck me off or not? My poor dick’s feeling neglected.”

“Your dick’s got a massive ego.”

“ _Enormous_ ,” Nick agrees with a wink.

It makes Louis laugh and he makes his way down Nick’s body again. Louis might not have been rimmed before, but he knows exactly how to drive Nick to distraction with his talented mouth and tongue. He’s a tight, wet heat around Nick and he takes him into the back of his throat with little effort. He keeps a hand firm around the base of Nick’s cock, sucking him until his lips are plump and red and Nick’s cock is slick with saliva. Just as Nick is close to the edge, he nudges Louis off his cock. He tips Louis’ chin up so he can look at him, taking in the bright haziness of his eyes.

“So good, pet,” Nick says. He doesn’t know why he has to keep praising Louis but from the shiver it sends through him, he’s glad his instincts are correct. He fists his cock in his hand and after a few moments he grunts as the force of his orgasm hits him. He stripes Louis’ face—Louis’ lovely, bright-eyed face—with his come and feels decidedly filthy as the sharp heat of his orgasm fades. 

With a sigh, Nick reaches for Louis who curls up against him. 

“Was that okay?” 

“S’perfect,” Louis mumbles. He tugs the duvet over them and yawns. “Sleep then you can make me food and a brew as I did your sarnie this morning.”

“It’s only fair.” Nick kisses Louis on the forehead and keeps him close, his own eyes drooping. “Sleep first, though.”

The hail and the wind pick up outside, but the _rat-a-tat_ on the windows is soothing instead of frightening. The room is cosy and warm, and Louis is like a very fit hot water bottle pressed up against Nick.

It doesn’t take long for the sound of the storm to send Nick to sleep like a lullaby, his dreams full of snowball fights, laughter and Louis.

*

Two nights later, after cooking a brilliant meal of salmon and jacket potatoes, Nick puts on old episodes of Bake Off on Netflix. The wind continues to howl outside and new inches of powdery snow have settled over the countryside. Now the curtains are pulled closed, and with the log fire finally going there’s a cosy, romantic feel to the place. Louis is being marginally less annoying than usual, not trying to change the channel for once. It’s nice. Calm, peaceful, domesticated. Sweet. Nick swallows back a yawn. He should brush his teeth in a bit. Brush his teeth and cuddle up with Louis.

Louis pokes at Nick’s thigh, fingering the knee of his pyjamas. He smells like cigarette smoke and Nick’s shampoo. It’s amazing how quickly they’ve slipped into this routine of Louis getting himself clean and cuddling up against Nick on the sofa. They haven’t done much more than suck one another off and give each other frantic hand jobs to pass the time, but it’s perfect. Nick’s never been bothered how he gets his orgasms as long as he gets them. Sometimes fucking is a lot of effort and Nick can’t be arsed with the whole thing. Not to mention Louis still seems nervous about the idea of letting anything bigger than one of Nick’s fingers near his bum. 

“Nick?”

“Mmm?” Someone on Bake Off’s having a right ‘mare with their Victoria sponge. Nick fond of a sponge-related disaster. He likes it when the tent’s too hot and all the stuff starts melting. He wonders if that makes him a bit of an arse.

Louis sits up and kisses Nick on the neck. It’s nice. Tender, romantic, gentle-

“Want to fuck?”

Nick doesn’t feel quite so sleepy anymore. He’s also getting a bit hard in his pyjamas already, like the physical representation of the _boing_ noise he likes to play on the radio when he’s teasing people about feeling sexy. He clears his throat.

“Louis?”

“Yes, Nicholas?” Louis sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. He’s such a sharp, feisty, demanding little terror, it’s possible Nick’s more into him than is probably wise.

“You know the rule about Bake Off.” It’s an excellent rule. A rule Nick implemented, and neglected to tell Louis, because Nick’s forgetful like that when a popstar’s giving him the eye and the— _oh fuck_. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Getting you off.” Louis looks down at Nick, having straddled his lap. He pushes his fringe from his eyes.

“You’re blocking Mary Berry.”

“It’s not even Mary Berry, anymore. It’s that new bloke with the mad shirts and Sandy something.”

“They’ve got the old episodes on Netflix,” Nick replies. “It’s still Mary Berry, which you’d know if you were paying attention.” He pretends not to be impressed by Louis’ Bake Off knowledge. He puts his hands on Louis’ thighs and squeezes. “Comfy?”

“Not really, your knob’s poking into my arse.” Louis grins, as if that’s not exactly what he’s after. “What’s this rule of yours, then?”

“No talking during Bake Off. Give Mary the respect she deserves.”

“Stupid rule.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Anyway, it’s an old episode you’ve probably seen it a million times. Pause it or summat, I’m bored.”

Nick raises an eyebrow at Louis. “Charmed. I love getting off with someone who’s doing it because they’re _bored_.”

Louis has the decency to go slightly red. “Not just because of that.”

It’s quite sweet, really. Nick tries to fight the smug smile and the urge to fist bump the air. 

“Come here, then.” Nick hauls Louis down into a kiss. With an awkward motion he flicks off the telly because he can’t get off when someone’s wanging on about their cherry Bakewells or whatever the fuck. Catching glimpses of someone that looks like his nana talking about their trifle in the background doesn’t exactly set the mood. 

“You’re good at that.” Louis pulls back, breathless. “Probably because you’ve had a lot of practice.”

Nick shrugs. “Probably.” He can get over the suggestion he’s slagged around a bit. Louis’ a fine one to talk. Nick suspects he’s done alright for himself. He runs his thumb over Louis’ neck and feels his pulse jump. He decides to be bold and suggest something he’s been wanting to do for the last couple of days. “Want to try seeing if you can get off from my fingers, darling?”

Louis’ breath catches and he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Nick loves how much Louis gets worked up at the idea of this. It’s not the kind of thing he’s really been into with someone before, but there’s something about the way Louis reacts to the lightest touch from Nick’s fingers that’s like a punch of pleasure. He has a sneaking suspicion Louis might completely lose his head over a good fingering and Nick wants Louis to get off as much as possible. He’s in no rush to fuck Louis but he also thinks doing this might help make him less nervous when the time comes. _If_ the time comes. Besides, Louis has a very lovely bum and Nick’s very happy to muck around with it as much as Louis wants. Nick’s a bit of a perv like that. 

He gets his hands on said fine bum and squeezes, pulling Louis in to another kiss. Louis wriggles in Nick’s lap, and Nick pushes his hands under Louis’ trackies. He digs his fingers into the fleshy part of Louis’ backside and the kisses become messier and more desperate. After a minute Nick pulls back, and Louis makes a small sound of discontent.

“You need to get the lube.” Nick’s still quite pleased with himself for having packed a proper bottle rather than the usual sachets he chucks into his wallet just in case. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can’t help but wonder if he was hoping for exactly this kind of thing to happen. 

“Still can’t believe you brought so much, you’re such a dirty tart.”

“Thank you,” Nick says, proudly. If his dick wasn't already so hard he would probably think up a Bake Off related pun about his tart-like status, but he suspects Louis might not appreciate Nick's hilarious jokes. When Louis comes back, he chucks the bottle on the sofa and moves to straddle Nick again before Nick stops him. “Hang on, let’s make this easier.”

“What does— _agh_.”

Nick gets Louis’ joggers down in one swift movement, pulling him closer between Nick’s legs and taking his cock in his mouth. Louis grips onto Nick’s shoulders, his breath rough and ragged as Nick slowly blows him, getting him to full hardness. When he thinks he’s teased Louis enough with the achingly slow slide of his mouth, Nick pulls back properly and pats his lap. 

“Come on, then.”

With a groan, Louis kicks off his trackies fully and straddles Nick. He’s still wearing sports socks and that really shouldn’t be charming, but somehow it is. Nick slides his hands over Louis’ thighs enjoying the heat of the skin and the way he clings into Nick and rocks over him. His cheeks are flushed and he looks so turned on, it makes Nick’s head spin. Nick slicks his fingers and slides them through the crack of Louis’ arse, getting him nice and slick. The touch makes Louis whimper and he pushes back towards Nick’s fingers.

“Please, Nick. _Please_.”

“Okay Lou.” Nick bites back a groan as he pushes one finger slowly inside Louis. He works it in to the second knuckle before pulling back and pushing it all the way in. Louis shifts in his lap, sucking in a ragged breath. Louis is so hot and tight, it makes Nick imagine fucking Louis. He whispers in his ear, his breath rough. “You’re so tight, love. I’d finger you slowly open and fuck you so hard just when you’re begging for it. You’d like it, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmph.” Is about all Louis manages, as Nick slides two fingers inside Louis’ body. It’s quite gratifying, reducing someone to incoherence. Nick flicks his tongue against the pulse point on Louis’ neck and sucks on the pale skin there, breathing in the scent of Louis. He’s so lovely. Feisty, brilliantly annoying, sharp, funny and loyal. Like a terrier, Nick thinks. A beautiful, shaggy-haired, scruffy little monster that has nestled his way into Nick’s heart when he wasn’t even looking. Nick fingers Louis slowly, getting the angle right so it makes Louis gasp and stutter, curses falling from his lips as he moves on Nick’s fingers. When Nick slides his fingers out of Louis he lets out a whine of complaint, but Nick shushes him gently.

“Move on your back love. Mmm, that’s it.” Nick slides his hand under Louis’ brilliant bum when he’s stretched out on the sofa and begins to finger fuck him in earnest. This time he can get the angle just right and he can tell from the grunts and groans of pleasure that whatever he’s doing is working. Louis is so hard, his cock flush against his stomach and the tip of it damp. Nick slides his mouth around Louis as he fingers him, the combination clearly doing the trick. With a shout of pleasure, Louis bucks up into Nick’s throat and comes with a strangled cry. 

“So lovely.” Nick’s voice is rough as he pulls off Louis’ cock, his hand working over his own aching dick. He straddles Louis and tugs himself to a quick completion, groaning as Louis watches him, bright-eyed and flushed.

“You could have fucked me,” Louis says. His voice is scratchy and he gives Nick a small smile. “I’d have liked it, I think.”

“Next time.” Nick shrugs. “No rush, is there?” He pulls up his pyjamas and grabs Louis a cloth, watching him wipe the come from his torso. When Louis is back in his joggers, they curl up on the sofa and Nick flicks on Bake Off again. “We’ve got time.” Even as he says it, Nick isn’t sure that’s true. He wants to keep the real world at bay for as long as possible, because he doesn’t know if the real world is going to be a place where Nick and Louis can carry on doing whatever this is.

Louis stretches out on the sofa, his head in Nick’s lap. He looks strange and upside down, blinking at Nick from his weird angle. 

“I like you,” Louis says, quietly. “I thought you should know.”

Nick swallows. “I like you too.” He touches his finger lightly to the corner of Louis’ smile which tilts upwards. “I’m glad we got trapped in a snowstorm.”

Louis’ throat works. “Me too.” He yawns and grabs a blanket, burrowing closer to Nick. “Turn up the telly,” he says, voice drowsy with sleep.

“Whatever you want, love.” Nick turns up the volume and holds Louis in his arms, his heart restless and his stomach knotted with the idea of confronting reality again.

*

“Snow’s gone.” Louis hoists his rucksack onto his shoulder and looks around, breathing in the cold air. “It’ll be Christmas soon.”

“Yeah.” Nick’s throat is tight, and he watches Louis, wondering if he’s going to melt away from Nick’s life like all the snow. “Any plans?”

“Going back to Donny for a bit.” Louis shrugs. “You?”

“Back to Mum’s.” Nick itches to reach for Louis but he can’t quite bring himself to take that step. The biting air and the fact they're outside instead of cocooned away, makes it all very real. Nick's not sure if he's allowed to touch Louis out here, where a beady-eyed robin is giving them a look. “I'll probably make them all watch my victory on X-Factor.”

“’Course you would.” Louis rolls his eyes. He looks around with a frown. “Didn’t you say they had bikes here?”

“For the summer.” Nick nods. “Bikes and some goat farm. Bet all the goats are inside now.”

“Probably not.” Louis’ eyes shine as he looks hopefully at Nick. “They’re pretty hardy, goats are. Particularly them mountain ones.”

“Yeah. I suppose they are.” Nick swallows, his heart thudding in his chest. “Sounded pretty good from the brochure.”

“You think?” Louis drops his rucksack on the floor and surges closer to Nick, clinging to him koala like. Louis clearly doesn't give a fuck about voyeuristic robins, and Nick's heart jumps with relief. “Want to stay for a bit longer?”

“There’s no snow,” Nick replies, a bit uselessly. 

“I can see that for myself, Nicholas.” Louis snorts under his breath. “Still.” He takes a breath. “There’s a few more days before I need to be anywhere.” He looks around and lowers his voice, even though it’s just the two of them. “You have to fuck me. You haven’t done that yet.”

Nick thumbs at Louis’ cheek, his heart quickening. “I haven’t done a lot of things.” He grins at Louis’ eager expression. “It’s Thursday. No work until Monday.”

“Well?” Louis sounds impatient. Nick keeps him close, brushing his hair from his face

“We wouldn’t be able to blame the snow if we stayed.”

“No.” Louis shakes his head and gives Nick a grin. “We’d have to admit we're here because we want to be.”

“Imagine.” Nick gets his hands on Louis’ bum and pulls him close. “That doesn’t sound like us. Having a proper adult conversation and talking about feelings.”

“Nope. Not like us at all.”

“What about after?” Nick asks. As appealing as holing themselves away for another couple of days sounds, he’s not sure he wants to if it’s a case of delaying the inevitable

“Dunno.” Louis gives Nick a hopeful look, his cheeks pinker than before. “I might have to come over if you’re showing your family the X-Factor. I’ll have to make sure you’re not telling them lies about me, or making them think you were the best judge or something.”

“As if I would.” Nick gasps in mock horror. He toys with the hair at the base of Louis’ neck, enjoying the softness of it beneath his fingers. “Not too bad, getting from Donny to Oldham. I’d come to you, if you wanted.”

“Don’t mind.” Louis’ cheeks flush deeper. “Can do, if you like. We can watch the X-Factor at mine.”

Nick kisses Louis. “We can also cuddle up on the sofa and _not_ watch the X-Factor.”

“Nicholas,” Louis says, scandalised. “There'll be no funny business in front of my family.”

“I’ll keep my hands to myself,” Nick lies.

“You’d better.” Louis gives Nick a cheeky smile. “Unless there’s mistletoe.”

Nick makes a mental note to buy a sprig, because apparently he’s cheesy as fuck when it’s the holidays and Louis Tomlinson gives him one of those wide, bright smiles that feels like the sun coming out on a cold winter day.

“We staying, then?” Nick gestures to the car. “We can go to Tesco’s and get some vegetables in. I’m bored of champagne ice lollies.”

“Good for some things though.” Louis raises his eyebrows, looking smug. Because he’s a terror he made sure to fellate his ice lolly in Nick’s eyeline. He pulls a face. “No vegetables, though. Can we go and see them goats?”

“If you want. We stayed for the snow, now we’re staying for the goats.”

“Nah.” Louis shakes his head. “Not me. I’m staying for the sex.” 

“Well I’m staying for that too.” Nick laughs and pulls Louis close, squeezing him breathless. He wants to make snow angels. He wants to hire bikes and see what it’s like cycling down icy paths and feeding ducks on frozen lakes. He wants to go and see small goats stumbling around in the snow and watch Louis giving them the big, wide smile he gets when he’s enjoying himself. “Want to see the goats tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Louis chucks his rucksack back inside the house then yanks open the door to Nick’s car. “Can we get some oven chips? And some frozen pizzas or nuggets.” He closes the door and starts arsing around with Nick’s radio, clearly determined to be driven to the nearest Iceland so they can stock up the freezer with terrible food that Nick definitely shouldn’t be eating.

Nick doesn’t care, though. Even though the air is freezing cold, it’s one of those bright, crisp, winter days that Nick loves. Louis’ probably going to make Nick play something terrible and there’s all kinds of things they should probably discuss, but none of it seems urgent.

Nick takes a breath and heads for the car, sliding into the driver’s seat and reaching across to squeeze Louis’ hand.

“Glad we’re staying.”

“Yes.” Louis smiles at Nick and the air between them is warm and electric. “Me too.”

Nick turns the key in the ignition and begins to drive, singing along to Don’t Look Back in Anger when Louis turns up the volume. 

_~Fin~_


End file.
